


Again

by SpellCleaver



Series: Xtober 2020 [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, tumblr snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29050425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellCleaver/pseuds/SpellCleaver
Summary: Vader returns from torturing Princess Leia on the Death Star to theDevastator, where his son, the light of his life, is staying. But Luke sensed the destruction of Alderaan, and when he argues about what his father has done to his friend, Vader lashes out.
Relationships: Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Series: Xtober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112750
Comments: 20
Kudos: 124





	1. "Please..."

**Author's Note:**

> My project of moving all my tumblr prompts from various challenges in October to AO3 continues! This is an AU born of three of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This ficlet was originally posted here.](https://spell-cleaver.tumblr.com/post/631245870444298240/vader-have-a-bad-time-when-luke-says-to-him-you)

_Father?_ Luke's alarm was a spike in the Force; Vader could feel it intimately from where he was standing on the bridge of the Death Star. _Father, what's going on?_

 _Nothing that concerns you_ , Vader snapped back. _Go back to your studies._ Luke was meant to be reading up about the history of the Empire, not interrupting him in the middle of his duties.

 _Is—_ If Luke had been there in person, he would have gasped, Vader was certain. _We're over Alderaan—You're about to—_

 _Remain on the_ Devastator _,_ Vader ordered. _This is none of your concern._

 _That's a_ planet _! With a_ population _! My_ best friend _lives there, Father, you can't, tell Tarkin—_

 _Your_ best friend _is a traitor, Luke; she has brought this on herself. There is a_ reason _Palpatine has ordered me not to tell you my movements, son, or why you didn't know about this beforehand. I suggest you curb your burgeoning Rebel sympathies before—_

Tarkin gave the order to fire.

Vader yanked himself away from his conversation with Luke, his grip on the Princess's shoulder tightening to the point that she cried out in pain, her shouts oddly satisfying after she'd endured interrogation without saying a word—and then Alderaan was gone.

He felt it.

He knew that Luke felt it too.

He delivered Organa to her cell, to await her execution. And then he went to check on his son.

Luke was shaking—studying abandoned as he curled up in his bed and _shook_ , his sense in the Force ringing like a bell beaten until it cracked. When Vader reached out, he jerked his head up and _glared_.

"What—" His voice broke. "Father, that _hurt_. What have you done?"

Vader felt uncomfortable under his son's accusing gaze. "Tarkin has destroyed Alderaan."

"You stood by and _let him_!"

"It was not my place to oppose. Princess Organa was a traitor—I have unambiguous evidence of that, Luke, do not chastise me for taking action on it. Alderaan was a warning to all others who will Rebel."

"You've _created more Rebels_!" Luke snarled. "You— you don't even realise what was _wrong_ with that, do you? You're such a blind follower of the Empire, you really just don't give a kriff!"

"Luke…" Vader warned. "I have told you before that your… Rebel sympathetic language is dangerous, do not—"

"Don't do what? Tell the truth!? Father, you and your precious Empire just _murdered_ billions of innocent people!"

"They were casualties of war."

Luke stared at him in horror.

"No," he whispered. "No, stop—Father, you're better than this, you're a good person, _please_. Stop, please. Come— leave the Empire, come away with me, you don't have to do this anymore—"

"Why would I leave, son?"

"Because what you're doing is _evil_!" Luke screamed. "And you…" He stared. "You don't even see it, do you?"

His irritation was fanning itself into full-blown fury. Vader pointed an aggressive finger at Luke and demanded, "Young one, your association with Princess Organa and her ilk has clearly done you and your worldview significant harm; be assured that this will be _fixed_ as soon as possible. Stop snivelling about Alderaan; the Rebels on it doomed the civilians around them the moment they nested there, and their blood is on _their_ hands. Regrettable casualties of war, but—"

"Father, stop. Please." Luke dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to Vader to grasp the front of his tabard, begging— "Don't do this."

"Do _what_ , Luke? I dislike the Death Star's bluntness as much as anyone, but—"

"I can't believe this." Luke let go… and he started backing away.

Vader knew that expression on his face.

He looked exactly— exactly like his mother had—

And then Luke whispered, "You're breaking my heart."

Vader tensed up. The fires of Mustafar gnawed at his flesh.

Luke shook his head. "You're—"

He never finished his sentence.

A blink, and Luke was clawing desperately at his throat, nothing but horror—pure, unadulterated _horror_ , betrayal—twisting his expression as he stared at Vader, his father, the man who'd raised him and carried him when he fell asleep and taken him flying and cradled him against his chest—

Vader's fist tightened even further, and Luke's choked gasps cut off entirely. His face grew redder, and redder, and redder.

 _Father_ , he tried to reach for him, terror vibrating in his words— _Father, what— what are you doing—_

And then his head lolled and his eyes drifted shut.

It was the abrupt disappearance of him in the Force that snapped Vader out of it: a blinding light, so often brushing against and soothing him, vanished, a void rushing in to replace it. Vader released the Force in shock… then beheld what he had wrought.

Luke lay on the floor of his bedroom, unmoving.

No.

_No._

What— what had he _done_ —

He was on his knees in a second, his commlink out and demanding a medic, unfeeling durasteel fingers reaching for a pulse. There—he felt no pulse in unfeeling fingers and sensed no flicker, but Luke's chest rose and feel infinitesimally. He was still alive.

_He was still alive._

But— if he'd done that for any longer—

Vader wanted to take his lightsaber and drive it into his chest. He wanted to _roar_.

But not now.

Now, Luke needed him.

He had almost killed his son the way he'd killed his mother.

Darth Vader never ran. But when he'd scooped his boy into his arms and entering the corridors towards the medbay, he was flat out _sprinting_.


	2. "I've Got You"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Originally posted here.](https://spell-cleaver.tumblr.com/post/631353213134733312/day-7-whumptober-ive-got-you-carrying)

_Luke. Luke, it's alright. I've got you._

Luke did not reply.

Vader held him close to his chest, a weak howl building in his throat, as he stormed past trooper after officer after aide, each one staring then averting their eyes when they realised what scene they were staring at.

_I've got you, little one, it will be alright, I am here—_

But it _wouldn't_ be alright, _because_ he was here, because he was the one who'd caused this, wasn't he? If he wasn't here…

If he wasn't here, Luke would be fine.

If he wasn't here, Padmé would be.

He stormed into the medbay and hated the way they all immediately snapped to attention, then glanced at Luke—the ring of bruises around his neck. He knew what they must be thinking.

They were right.

"Treat him," he demanded, walking over to the nearest free bed and lowering Luke into it as gently as he could. Luke, unconsciously, sucked in a painful gasp; it pierced right through Vader's chest and out the other side.

Vader took a seat in one of the medbay chairs and watched the medics swarm around Luke, as his throat purpled like a jogun, as his laboured breathing eased and his eyelids fluttered. Vader kept an eye on him in the Force as well, soothing him when he dipped towards wakefulness, keeping him down. Let the medics work—and so long as he was asleep, he couldn't feel pain.

So long as he was asleep, _Vader_ couldn't feel his pain, and know what he had done.

They lowered Luke into the bacta tank for a short while, with a breathing mask—Vader hadn't even noticed the injuries he'd left to the rest of his body, when he'd dropped him so roughly right next to the bed frame, and when he'd lashed out… He stared at his son, floating there; for a brief moment Luke opened his bleary blue eyes and stared back.

He smiled, instinctively, when he saw the shadow that was his father looming in front of him.

Vader turned away before the guilt could absolutely devour him.

The chief medic snapped to attention when he strode towards her. "Report."

"Most of the minor injuries to his torso have been totally taken care of, my lord," she said. "The— the bruising around his… neck… is more of a damage, and it will take longer to heal, so we intend to leave him in the tank for a few more hours; that should cure him of it entirely."

Vader nodded. "Dismissed."

She couldn't scurry away fast enough.

Vader turned back toward Luke, still floating peacefully in there; when he touched his mind with the Force, hesitantly, as he had no right to, he sensed serenity a Jedi would be jealous of.

"This will not happen again, little one," he vowed. It was an empty promise, he was aware. He had promised not to hurt Luke at all, he had thought that mantra was written into the very fibres of his being, and yet… here they were.

Just like with Padmé.

Luke was so very much his mother's son.

He pressed his hand to the glass, watching a clumsy, mostly unconscious Luke press his hand to the same spot. He couldn't have felt the warmth of his son's touch through the glass even if his prosthetics had been able to feel warmth at all.

What had he done?

Luke had pushed him the slightest bit, and…

What had he done?

He would make it up to Luke. He would— he would do anything the boy asked, _he didn't deserve this boy_ , he—

He spent so long in the medbay, watching over and protecting the son who had no greater threat than he himself, that he missed the summons, and the urgency, and the kerfuffle, when Princess Organa escaped the Death Star.

He supposed Luke, at least, would be happy about that. She had not been executed. She was free to terrorise and rampage and destroy the new order he was building for Luke himself, all she wanted.

Let her.

Vader didn't care.

His son was hurt, and he was here—even if he was the last person he needed.


	3. Crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Originally posted here.](https://spell-cleaver.tumblr.com/post/631720025030557696/day-11-whumptober-psych-101)

Luke regained consciousness slowly. Vader was by his side the whole time, his hand never leaving Luke's, his hand never leaving his face.

Until Luke's eyes flickered open, and he flinched away from him.

"Luke—" Vader said, then cut himself off. What could he say? What could he possibly say, that would explain this, that would _justify_ this, that—

"You—" Luke sat straight up in his hospital bed, massaging his sore throat, and croaked, "You…"

"Don't speak," Vader said urgently. "Don't you _dare_ speak. There— there was severe damage inside your throat, and the doctors recommend—"

Luke's glare could have rivalled the looks Padmé had given Ziro the Hutt. _I wonder why that is._

Vader flinched back at the mental admonishment, though it was well and truly deserved. _Luke, I…_

 _You… you_ destroyed Alderaan. _And you don't even see what is wrong?_

Vader jerked his head up at that, a peculiar, cold feeling pooling in his gut. That wasn't what he'd expected. That— that wasn't—

 _You destroyed Alderaan, and when I told you that planetary genocide was_ bad _, you tried to destroy_ me _._

Vader's limbs were all durasteel, yet they still trembled. "Luke, I—"

_Is that how you killed my mother?_

" _What_?"

Luke was glaring at Vader now, and Vader—Vader realised, with a burst of horrified hatred, that he was _afraid_. He was throwing out cruel words, harsh words, words _that he deserved_ , but— but he—

He was _afraid_ of his father.

He was afraid that— that—

"Luke…" An admonishment. A plea. He didn't know what that was. "Luke, I— your _mother_ , I—"

 _I know that you killed her, Father,_ Luke said bitterly. _Palpatine told me._

That feeling in Vader's gut froze and plummeted, like a sharp icy disk that sheared through the bottom of his stomach. Palpatine—his master had—

Of course he had.

Why was he surprised?

No. He knew why.

He was surprised because _Luke had apparently known_ —

Luke gave a self-deprecating smile. _I didn't believe him. I knew you wouldn't do that—would never do that. I knew you'd loved her, and that that would never change. You would never hurt_ me _, right; why would you hurt her?_

He touched his throat. Vader's heart flopped like it was a downed fighter.

"Yes," he said finally. He couldn't keep a lid on his loathing. "I… Yes. That is how it happened."

_That is why your mother is dead._

_That is why you are here alone._

Luke closed his eyes. _So he was telling the truth._

"Yes."

_Are you going to kill me, next?_

Vader actually stood up so he could take a few forceful steps back, at that, taking in a deep breath. He— he was a fool. He _hated this_ , he was _such a fool_ —

_Where's Leia? You tortured her. You destroyed her planet. Did you kill her too?_

Vader choked out, "No. No, she escaped while you were in bacta."

_Did you allow her to escape, or was she too ingenious for you to contain?_

Both. Both, but Luke wouldn't believe him if he told him.

Luke didn't reply to that. He just said, _She asked me to join the Rebellion. Several times, actually. Said that she knew I disapproved of the Empire, that I could do so much more to help the galaxy than just following you around cleaning up your murders and messes. That they needed warriors like me._

Vader wanted to scream. Wanted to rage. That— he'd known his son had Rebel sympathies, but… To _know_ his friend was a Rebel sympathiser, and not turn her in!? To _hide_ that from Vader!? To— to _consider defecting—!?_

_I said that I did not want to leave my father. I couldn't bear to betray you. And the look she gave me—the disappointment and pleading in her eyes when she said that you'd kill me once I told you exactly how I felt—was the worst thing I'd ever seen._

Vader thought of Padmé's pleading eyes on Mustafar—wondered if the Princess's expression had been half as heart-wrenching as that.

 _I thought that was ridiculous,_ Luke said.

And then—and this was the worst of all—he began to cry.

Vader panicked. He darted forward, placing his hands on Luke's shoulders, but Luke _cringed_ away from him, glaring, _terrified_ , and it struck in his soul like a thousand arrow shafts, like the burning of ten thousand suns, and he _didn't know what to do_ —

 _Father,_ Luke said, _please. Stop._

Vader stopped.

He stepped back.

Luke calmed down.

But then he began to cry again, and this time Vader just stood there. Hovering. He didn't know what to do.

 _I love you, Father,_ Luke said, tears wetting his cheeks at he stared right ahead, into nothingness. _I love you. Why— why did you—_

"I lost control."

 _Will you do it_ again _?_ Luke asked. _Or—or this_ was _your again, if you already did it with— with—?_

"Luke, please—"

_Leia was right._

The words chilled him to his core.

Because… they were true.

They were true.

Vader was a danger to the galaxy. He had always known that. That had never bothered him before—it was his entire reason for living, in service to the Empire, after all.

But now he was a danger to his _son_.

"Luke…" he said, then cut himself off again.

Luke turned his face away.

* * *

He thought about the issue long and hard:

He was a danger to his son.

So long as Luke was with him, he was not safe.

More than anything in the galaxy, Vader wanted Luke to be safe.

So that only left one option for him to do—to encourage, to accept.

That didn't make the headline _Lord Vader's son abandons the Empire in favour of the Rebellion_ any easier to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
